I Yearn For You
by Miranda le Ginger
Summary: Isabela is good at running away, and River Hawke just can't keep up anymore. Love fucking hurts, and River will just have to find other means to will away the pain. Will Isabela ever find her way back? Two part story.


A/N: Habits by Tove Lo is the basis/lyrics for this two part story. I highly recommend listening. The woman is brilliant.

Disclaimer: I, Miranda le Ginger, peon of fanfiction, do not own, attempt to own, or claim to own Dragon Age or its respective characters. Bioware and EA does.

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"_The shattering of a heart when being broken is the loudest quiet ever."-Carroll Bryant_

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_You're gone and I gotta stay  
>High all the time<br>To keep you off my mind_

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Love fucking sucks. That's just all there was to it; no sweet declarations murmured under the protection of cotton sheets, no cocoon of safety and warmth from the sharing of two bodies, and certainly no salvation from the horrors and rigors of life itself. The emotion was not tangible, and existed in the fantastical imaginings of those too embedded in tales best kept locked away without a key.

River Hawke used to be one of those girls who believed in a love all-encompassing and far-reaching, dreamt of the heat searing through her body and soul. It was all she wanted in life, and all she would ever need. Life had taken everything from her, all that she held dear. The Hawke dynasty was no more; Leandra's death had taken the last relative from River's grasp as her sister, a bonefied Grey Warden now, was too busy traipsing around the countryside and slaying all manner of evil things because River had proverbially stuck a dagger in her heart. Bethany would never be able to forgive her; River sure as hell knew she'd never forgive herself.

Still, despite the lessons she had all learned the hard way, River still held hope in her heart that love would find her and make the pain all go away. In fact, the eldest Hawke girl had thought she'd found it in the form of a sensuous, rather promiscuous pirate. Isabela had been everything Hawke needed , and everything Hawke never thought she'd fall for. The Rivaini…was simply beautiful. Sinuous limbs darkened to a smooth brown from constant exposure to the sun, long lustrous hair the color of the sky when the moon is at its zenith, and eyes like molten caramel that both froze and warmed River at the same time. Yeah, the champion had fallen, and she'd fallen hard.

River had easily won the carefree pirate over with a few well-placed innuendos and biting retorts that would have made Leandra eye her eldest sternly and the late Malcolm Hawke shake his head fondly. Likewise, the independence and freedom Isabela represented was a heady sensation to the young Hawke, who had to flee her very home, leaving behind the expired bodies of her father and brother. Leandra still harbored resentment and reproach in her eyes for Carver's death, and disappointment swirled in her misty eyes every time River's icy blues met her mother's. Things only worsened when Bethany, nearly having succumbed to the taint in the blasted Deep Roads, had to leave her old life and family behind to follow an order people knew next to nothing about and who generally did not live overly long. Despite popular opinion, sacrifice did not bring glory; it only brought pain and aching cold.

After losing Bethany, River had sort of frozen over, losing herself to the self-loathing and dark ruminations clouding her normally sanguine mood. Isabela had quite honestly been her saving grace, taking her to the Hanged Man and liquoring her up enough to fell a slew of hardened warriors. Not long after, Isabela had taken to warming River's bed, soothing both her mind and heating up her body in the same act. River had already started her descent into madness, falling swiftly in love with the woman who ran from it. Commitment was like a disease to the shipwrecked pirate; when intimacy strayed to close to the wayfarer, she jumped ship and traveled to the next victim, leaving them broken and in need of a repair no man or woman could fix.

The warrior sighed as she recalled the warmth of those lips traveling against her tanned skin, the prominent muscles that bulged attractively underneath her silken tunic bared for the pirate and the pirate alone. None had seen River in such a position, and River did not relish the idea of ever letting another soul have that kind of unfettered access. Armor could only protect so much, and River's had been cracked irreparably. River had tentatively brought up the dreaded 'L' word that first night when her maidenhood had been claimed by the Plunderer of the Seven Seas. True to form and unsurprising, Isabela deflected the meager offering with a few humorous words wholly inappropriate for the moment in time and a smile as fake as the gold earrings in her lovely ears. River sort of hated her in that moment; she sort of hated herself too.

Love was no longer brought into the conversation, and Isabela was happy enough to frequent Hawke's bed many, many nights. While River's most carnal desires were sated, a fire of an entirely different kind started an inferno in the pit of her stomach, intensifying the closer it crawled to her heart. Damned organ, ruining her life in more ways than one. River, the masochistic martyr she was, forfeited her heart to keep the pirate's free. But, Isabela did have her rare moments of tenderness and kindness, the moments that Hawke wondered if she might not mean more to the pirate than she showed. It gave Hawke hope, and the warrior desperately needed that in her life to keep away the darkness that threatened to swallow her and her sanity whole. Leandra's death had broken something inside her, something that could not be magicked away or healed with a bout of carnal and amazing sex.

Isabela, out of all her friends, braved the imposing Hawke mansion and held her softly as River broke down into tears, the rivulets falling and staining the corset that hid Isabela's heart from her taking. Strong arms and the scent of the sea swept her away into dreamland and followed her well into the morning, even after the rogue had vacated the warm covers. River had fallen off the precipice; she could no longer hide from her feelings, even had she wanted to. Her salvation, and subsequent demise, was set here. Check….and mate.

River knew Isabela was not being faithful; after all, they were not exclusive, no matter how River's heart longed to call the pirate her own and shield her from the hungry gazes and covetous touches of those pigs in the Blooming Rose. Hawke hated stepping foot in that place, knowing Isabela's ghost lingered in every bedroom, on every sheet. The scent and sight were not sequestered off to her own estate. Most of the patrons saw what she got to hold, and that thought made her sick to her very stomach. But, River bit off the agonized cry threatening to burst from her chest any time she watched Isabela at work, her seductions not at all subtle but more effective than Varric's "stories." Each time the couple disappeared, sometimes for an hour at a time, River fell deeper and deeper into her hole, desperately wishing to crawl free.

Most of the companions had voiced their opinions about the on-again, off-again couple, making references of deeper connotations. River always perked up a bit whenever they were mentioned, hoping against hope that Isabela's answer would change. But, it never did. Isabela, as always, ran. Dirty humor and mentions of cheap thrills fell from lips most wondrous and full of the sweetest sin.

The warrior had taken to alcohol to numb her pain and feelings, drinking away the shit only to forlornly stare at the bottom of the glass, searching for the answers that evaded her when sober. Isabela still frequented her bed, leaving sweat clinging to her heaving chest and a gaping wound that no bandage could cover. Hawke wondered if the taste of herself clung to Isabela's lips and fingers when she ambled immediately to the Blooming Rose. As much as both had been near her, she felt that the idea was very much possible. The thought made her stomach roil; the others that docked at Isabela's harbor would not think anything of it. She was just another whore the Queen whore had sampled. The thought broke River all the more.

The drinking worsened, as did her mood. Her companions all noticed and threw in their thoughts; nosy bastards. Couldn't they see she was drowning slowly, no limb to pull her out? River continued her behavior, ignoring their protestations and throwing the middle finger to those that did not see, or did not _care_ to see, her fall from grace. They simply did not understand.

It all finally came to a head, all the tension and heartache and…just…_everything_. Isabela had performed the ultimate betrayal, fleeing Kirkwall with that idol tucked safely under her arm, leaving her former team behind to clean up her mess…._Hawke_ to clean up her mess. The shattered fragments of her heart splintered beneath the feeling of abandonment. Hawke had not been good enough for Isabela to stay; the woman's words had not eased the pain but only intensified it. Lies, all lies. The weak explanation was merely an excuse, a ruse, to do what Isabela did better than anyone in all of Thedas: run. And hawke was just too damn tired to follow.

The Arishok…had not been pleased to hear of Isabela's flight. His rage was bellowed to the heavens, a mighty roar that echoed around the dingy clearing he had taken over. River's skin crawled at the sound, hand tensing on the hilt of her blade. Glacial eyes focused on the horned behemoth that could easily order his Qunari to rip Hawke & Company to utter shreds. Heated words spewed back and forth and River could feel the Arishok's disdain rolling off his massive body in waves. Just when all hell was to break loose, a figure River thought nothing more than a memory skidded into view. Her heart literally stopped as she took in the lithe figure clutching the idol in one hand and a wavering smirk slapped on her features. She had never looked more beautiful in River's eyes.

"Isabela….you came. Why…" Hawke's voice was low and soft, confusing warring with the need to grab the woman and hold her forever in her arms, Kirkwall be damned.

The Qunari had swathed a bloody path through the smoking city, killing any and all who crossed their path and did not have horns protruding from their skulls. River had encountered her sister, a shocking revelation in the form of royal blue mage robes and a veneer of sarcasm and snide remarks. Bethy was not the sweet young thing she had been, rosy-cheeked and bright-eyed. Reality was a harsh mistress, and Bethany had finally fallen for its machinations, just like her darling sister.

Isabela turned to meet Hawke's gaze head-on, a serious expression clouding her normal joking visage. "I came back to make things right. I…I couldn't let you take the fall for me."

The words were far from a declaration of amorous intent, but the inflection on the 'you' instead of 'you all' made River's previously stilted heart jump as if electrified. Swirling pools connected with shimmering mocha, words transferring without word but nonetheless being understood.

"I'm glad you are here." The words rang true. River was a shell, a husk, without her fiery counterpart. She might not have drowned yet, but without her proverbial limb keeping her afloat, she was as good as gone.

Isabela's good deed, however, did not go unpunished. As if the Maker himself decided the irony of the woman doing something unselfish could not go untouched, the Arishok demanded that with which River just had to refuse. Isabela was the one gift, the one casualty, River would not…could not…allow. So, River proved that chivalry and decency was not quite dead and brandished her sword and bravado, a combination sure to get her killed. The Arishok merely laughed at her, his deep voice reduced to laughter that would make the most maniacal person cringe. It was the most insulting and ominous sound River had yet heard.

Of course, the Dream Team was not exactly welcoming to the idea of their iconic leader facing a giant, muscle-bound beast that had an arm bigger than the tall warrior herself. River was a good head taller than most of the Kirkwall females…or any female, really. Her body was toned and well-muscled herself, certainly strong enough to take on male warriors and win without breaking a sweat. But a veteran Qunari warrior at the height of power? Yeah, a suicidal mission if she ever heard.

Aveline and Fenris appealed to her common sense and honor, Varric appealed to "_that part of you that listens to reason and not shit that'll get you killed_" and Merrill just kind of stood there bewildered, fear and worry warring with that innate romantic sense about her that believed Hawke to be that shining knight who saves her beautiful princess. Now, if only her stories told of a rogue slattern who sailed as many men as she did seas having her "honor" kept by a female warrior who was very likely to get impaled by a Qunari. Yes, it all sounded very romantic in her head.

"Hawke, no! You can't do this; he will rip you to shreds! Let me fight him, this is my fight! Damn it to hell Hawke; set aside your bloody hero complex and noble charades and get out of there!"

Despite the severity of the situation, Hawke found herself almost pleased at the attention Isabela featured on her. Maybe there was hope of salvaging their relationship after all. She just needed to survive, and win. Not too hard, right?

River unsheathed her sword, hearing a few dramatic gasps and a hush go around the crowd of Kirkwall-ians watching the upcoming battle, hoping the woman who had risen to repute over the years could get rid of the enemy who held Kirkwall by the balls.

The Arishok rose up from the chair he had taken, his arms bulging as he lifted his heavy weapon up effortlessly. Slowly he made his way down the dais, standing just on the lowest step. His chest rumbled as laughter built up at the situation. He almost seemed to smile for a moment.

"So, human; you wish to be the thief's champion? Such foolishness, and I had such high hopes for you. I even started to feel respect for you, until you proved to be the same as every other human. I look forward to killing you."

"You certainly don't mince words, do you? If you are so confident of victory, O Arishok, then by all means…come and get it." River was proud of how confident and cool her voice sounded, wholly unlike how she felt at the moment. This was going to be the fight of her career, the battle that either cemented her in the Kirkwall history books or elected her as the main reason the city fell to Qunari hands. No pressure….

The fight had been brutal. The action was fast-paced, and River had been hard-pressed to evade the massive axe that very nearly ended her life many a time. Blood oozed from a long gash on her cheek and her body was littered with bruises, cuts, open wounds and gashes that bled freely, sapping the warrior of her precious life source. Several tense moments had occurred, with River only a step away from being crushed by death itself. Isabela had watched from the side, eyes dark with worry and hands clenched together tight, wishing to just jump into the fray and aid her…friend. One moment, the Arishok had managed to pin River to the ground with his axe. River had struggled mightily, but the weight proved too much. Isabela had gotten fed up with the battle and quickly grasped her dagger, intent on rushing forward and saving Hawke. However, Aveline wrapped her burly arms around Isabela and kept her from making things worse. The Qunari were full of honor; if Isabela joined in, the trial would be null and void and the bet would be off.

River had managed to kick the Qunari hard, momentarily incapacitating the beast and giving her a chance to roll out of the way. The remainder was quick and merciless; Hawke hammered and hammered, not giving in until the Arishok finally stood defeated. He spewed his last words, telling of an invasion like the world had never seen, of Qunari rising as one and swallowing them all whole. Yeah yeah, yada yada. River was used to declarations of this kind; after the beating she took, she couldn't give a fuck. She was alive, had defeated the enemy and granted safe passage to the remaining civilians, and she had fought for her love. Yes she thought before succumbing to the darkness, life might just be okay after all.

Except it wasn't. Just the opposite, actually. When River roused from sleep a day later (literally) she inquired about Isabela. She had kind of figured that after River's show of bravery, Isabela would have waited beside her, ready to take the inevitable plunge. Anders looked at her sadly, a strange gleam in his soft eyes hardened by prejudice and hate. Isabela would not be visiting her that day, nor any other. Not long after River was transported to her bed at her estate, the pirate had taken off…for good this time. Not even her knight in shining armor could keep her moored. That was the day River finally gave up.

Now, nearly three years later to the day Isabela had left, Hawke was seated at her usual seat at The Hanged Man, relishing the burn of the spirits as it scorched all the way down her throat. Pint after pint descended to her core, her mouth still parched as the alcohol seemed to never quite sate her thirst. River had her ups and downs (mostly downs) these past few years, but normalcy was starting to look like a thing. If you could call drinking your weight in booze and sleeping through the masses 'coping.' The Champion was exalted and praised for her actions three years prior, and everyone wanted to tame the bachelorette's heart. Usually, River bedded only women but one man had caught her attention one night; about a fortnight ago. He had been tall and muscular, a strapping young Templar acolyte. River despised the order due to her own personal relationships with mages; her sympathies still ran deep, despite her sister's cold behavior. But the rugged face, obsidian hair spiked in the front and golden eyes that roved lustfully over her…she had not the strength to resist.

Liam, as he was named, had been an amazing lover. Hawke desperately needed something to fill her gap, to soothe the ache that nobody could quite fill after Isabela's departure. River refused to let him take control, instead choosing to top him and ride to completion. Liam certainly never complained, if the look of rapture on his handsome face was to be believed. Kissing him was strange; the prickles of his stubble were a feeling she had not experienced much before. He was only the second man River had lain with in her life, both of which had happened after Isabela had broken her heart yet again. Liam had left right afterwards, like most did. It was better that way, and River preferred not to look her mistakes in the eye the next morning. Wallowing in self-pity and disgust was the better route.

Currently, a red-haired vixen was eyeing the champion with interest, and a brunette leaning into her side giggled as the red-head intimately whispered in her ear. Two pairs of fathomless blues bore into River's own icy pair; River did not pretend she was not observing them. Taking her expression to be a positive sign, the pair strolled seductively over to the warrior, swinging hips for effect. _Nice try, ladies. As if I have not seen that move before. Good job for trying, though._ Instead of guffawing like she might have done long ago, River sat forward on the edge of her seat, already planning on getting the two women in her bed. She'd had the pleasure of a ménage a trois a couple of times, and the fun lasted well into the night. More time for Hawke to just forget about how sad and miserable she really was inside. Nothing was better to drown the sorrows than swill and sex.

"Hey there, Champion. We noticed you are all alone tonight. It's a shame such a hero does not have company to enjoy, right Ivy?"

The brunette smirked, nodding and batting her eyes coquettishly. "You're right, Claire. The woman who saved Kirkwall should be treated like the warrior she is. That is…if you want?"

River did not bother with platitudes; she preferred the direct route. Her eyes simmered deep within, and both women shuddered deliciously at the predatory look currently flashing across the woman's face. "I do believe I am in need of some company. Would you ladies care to accompany me to my estate? It gets so lonely, all alone in that big old house. Cold, too."

Claire's sky blue orbs twinkled naughtily as a twin smirk crossed from one side to the next. "We can't have our hero getting a cold, can we, Ivy? Let's see what we can do about warming her up."

River stood up quickly, her legs no longer shaking or quivering from alcohol. She was a regular master now. River tossed some coins at the bartender, who politely nodded his head before turning to face more customers. Her large hands engulfed each of the ladies' hands, drawing them close. "Come now, shall we? Wouldn't want you two stuck out in the dark for long."

Both beamed at Hawke, adoring eyes melting at the protective warrior and praising the Maker that fate had allowed them one night with the famous woman. The three walked rather swiftly to the estate. Normally, River rented a room for the nights of debauchery. That, or she took out a worker at the Blooming Rose. But on the anniversary of the day her world stopped spinning, she knew she would welcome the privacy of her home. River would not be gentle or sweet on this night; it would be carnal, animalistic fucking. Most of her trysts were, as she was not able to let herself be vulnerable…not after last time. River planned on fucking the moroseness right out of her, purging it from her system the best way she'd found.

The estate loomed just ahead, and Hawke hastened her steps. Her fingers itched to divest the women of their clothing and get to work; already, the memories were closing in, threatening to engulf her. Claire and Ivy seemed as eager as she, smiling shyly and giggling as they snuck peaks at the bronze-skinned woman's profile. She was a gorgeous specimen, to be sure. Her skin looked almost Rivaini, hair dark and tousled, cut short to just below her neck. A scar cut across the bridge of her nose, looking almost like smeared paint. River had been told it was attractive. Her eyes were the color of icy pools in winter, frozen even when warm. All in all, she was someone any and everybody wanted to try at least once.

They finally reached the door. River let go of the girls' hands and fumbled in her pocket for the silver key. The lock clicked open and River ushered her guests inside. The soft glow of the fire illuminated the room, casting soft shadows all around. Bodahn and Sandal were undoubtedly asleep at this time. River and the women quietly ascended the stairs, River avoiding her eyes from the shut door on the other side from hers. She had not set foot in the room since her mother's passing. River grasped the handle of her door, slowly pushing it open. The three walked inside, river flicking the switch to the light. Light burst into the room, highlighting the figure lying sprawled across the bed like she belonged there, like she owned the place.

"Isabela? What…what are you doing here?" River was in a state of utter shock, eyes comically widened to take in the woman who had taken everything from her, the woman who had broken her heart. The woman she still loved.

"Surprise!" The pirate's caramel eyes twinkled, acknowledging only River.

River flinched, eyes shutting tight as he fought to control herself. _Shit_

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_Spend my days locked in a haze  
>Trying to forget you babe<br>I fall back down  
>Gotta stay high all my life<br>To forget I'm missing you_


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